


The Trials and Tribulations of an Heir Apparent

by rikke



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, And no one dies, M/M, Minor Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, and iwa-chan is his "battery", semi-fhq inspired except oikawa is a sex demon, succubus oikawa
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-04-17 17:20:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14193864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rikke/pseuds/rikke
Summary: It shouldn’t be so difficult to confess he’s in love with Iwaizumi when Oikawa has literally kissed him every morning for the last nineteen years. Except Iwaizumi was assigned to charging-duty since birth because Oikawa is the half-succubus prince of Seijoh.And three months before he's going to be officially crowned, Oikawa gets a deadline--if Iwaizumi doesn't fall in love by the coronation, he'll have to find a new "charger."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is the trashiest thing i've written so far. semi-inspired by FHQ where the thought process went, if oikawa is a demon, he would definitely be a sex demon
> 
> in this universe, succubus = charges off sexual acts with men; incubus = charges off sexual acts with women.
> 
> Happy late 4/1!

“Hey, wake up.”

Tooru ignores the rough prodding until it turns into shaking, and squints up at Hajime’s grouchy morning face. Even though the sun is just barely coming through the dark canopy of his bed, Hajime is already almost completely dressed in his practice leather armor.

“You want your charge or not, Lazykawa?” Hajime says. He’s still holding his vambrace, though, trying to buckle it on with one hand before he gives up and tosses it on Tooru’s bed.

“It’s early,” Tooru whines, even as he sits up in the mound of pillows and blankets surrounding him. He rubs his eyes, and almost chokes on a yawn when Hajime abruptly closes the distance between them and seals his mouth with a kiss.

Tooru sighs into it as Hajime maps his mouth, feeling his blood stir as he comes fully awake. Hajime’s lips are dry and warm, and as familiar as his own after nineteen years of this daily routine. Lately, the kisses have gotten a little longer and a little more heated if Hajime has to be away for most of the day and can’t give him a lunchtime charge.

“You’re going to be late tonight,” Tooru accuses him when Hajime pulls back.

Hajime rolls his eyes and picks up his vambrace again, handing it to Tooru. “You got enough energy to survive as long as you don’t overdo things,” he says. “We have field training today so try not to be an idiot until I get back.”

“Oikawa-sama is never an idiot,” Tooru says, automatically buckling it on for him the way he does almost every morning. Although Hajime is technically supposed to get dressed with the other knights-in-training and Tooru has a host of servants who are supposed to wake him up, he and Hajime have been in this routine since they were toddlers just beginning figuring out how to find the right arm holes in their shirts.

“Yeah, whatever, try not to terrorize too many of your poor citizens before I’m back.” Hajime flicks him in the forehead and grins.

“I am the _nicest_ prince Seijoh has ever had,” Tooru says as Hajime turns to leave.

“And try not to tell too many lies about yourself,” Hajime says and gives him a backwards wave before he shuts the door behind him, leaving Tooru on his own again.

Tooru falls back into the mount of pillows and sighs, staring up at dark, star-patterned canopy stretching above his bed. He remembers the way Hajime’s large cupped his cheek, warm and large, and his thumb a rough and calloused from all the hours of training as a knight. His breath tasted like mint, evidence that he’d brushed his teeth before he came since Tooru had complained about it so many times before. Tooru thinks about the teasing, affectionate grin that Hajime gave him, too familiar with each other after years of this. He replays it all in his head, analyzing every detail and looking for any sign at all that Hajime is in love with him the way Tooru is in love with Hajime. But as usual, results are inconclusive—things have simply always been this way.

Iwaizumi Hajime was born one month before Tooru as the son to the General of the Seijoh Royal Armed Forces. After examinations, the Royal Physician declared that, like his father, Hajime had a healthy constitution, an almost impossibly strong life force, and would surely live a long, healthy life barring any unfortunate circumstances. Congratulations were given all around that the Iwaizumis had been blessed with a son who would be a perfect energy charger, child playmate, and future guard for the soon-to-be-born crown prince.

According to both sets of parents, when Tooru was born, he was so quiet that they’d been afraid he was a stillborn until they put Hajime in the crib beside him and pressed their little mouths together. Apparently less than three seconds had passed before Tooru had enough energy to wail at the top of his lungs and Hajime smacked him in the face, and that characterized the start to their nineteen-year relationship.

Because the thing is, Oikawa Tooru, crown prince of Seijoh, is half-succubus. His mother is a full succubus, the most beautiful one in the nation, according to his doting father—and everyone knows that succubi live off of sex with men. Lucky for Tooru, he’s young and only half-succubus, which means he’s survived fine off a daily kiss from Hajime for the last nineteen years.

Now, he daydreams about the day when Hajime will kiss him for more than just energy and maybe in places that aren’t just Tooru’s lips and tell Tooru how he loves him and promises to stay with him forever. But until then, Tooru is content being the only one who gets to kiss Iwaizumi Hajime even if Hajime might not entirely have a choice in the matter.

At least, that’s how it is until Tooru’s parents come in to breakfast that morning and give him the worst news of his life.

 

* * *

 

The Oikawa royal family has always breakfasted together for as long as Tooru can remember. His parents say it’s because even royal families need time together, and breakfast is the most convenient. Which also means breakfast is usually when Tooru gets ambushed, which is exactly the case today.

“Tooru,” his father begins and stops before he tries again, which is always a sign it’s going to be something Tooru doesn’t like. It’s doubly suspicious when his father nudges his mother. “You tell him, honey.”

“You are the king of Seijoh. You can handle your son,” his mother whispers to him but rolls her eyes and turns to Tooru. “Tooru, dear, as you know, your 20th birthday is coming up in a few months.”

“Three months,” Tooru says. He hasn’t thought about it in too much detail yet. While he has had extravagant parties before, his favorite part has always been at the end of the party when it’s just him and Hajime and his family again, and he doesn’t have to talk to or politely laugh with anyone. Tooru doesn’t plan to do anything special this year—just use his birthday privileges to maybe demand that Hajime go to the market together and make Hajime buy things for him, or make Hajime take him to one of those traveler’s taverns he’s always been a little curious about but never dared to go by himself, or maybe take the horses and go out to the fields for a picnic and stargazing—really anything as long as Hajime spends all day with him. Hajime has been so busy lately with training since he’s preparing for the final series of tournaments in May that will determine his future placement.

“Well, your father and I have been talking, and we think it will be a good time to crown you heir apparent,” his mother says. She continues cutting into her pancakes like she’s delivering any ordinary bit of news—the chancellor of Seijoh Magic University is considering a new curriculum from Blue Leaf Publishing, the Potions Makers’ Guild wants to hike up prices for common cold cures, the butchers at Grand Central Market are complaining that Shiratorizawa’s cows are doing particularly well this year and flooding the Seijoh market.

Tooru almost drops his knife. “Heir apparent? Now?” Ever since he was born, he’s been trained to one day take over running the kingdom, but he’d imagined it to happen years down the line. He’d always thought that it would at least be after Hajime completed his knights’ training and Tooru graduated from Seijoh University.

“You won’t be made king immediately of course,” his father says. “But we do need to go through the ceremony, officially let the people know that you’re of age and ready. Traditionally, it’s always been when you turn twenty.”

“You weren’t,” Tooru points out. His father had been made king right after he’d returned from a successful campaign in the south.

“We were at war when I turned twenty,” his father says. “There wasn’t time until I got back, and by then, my father was dead so.” He shakes his head. “It was a different time then, but you’re lucky our kingdom is at peace.”

Tooru isn’t quite sure how to process this information. He has technically been training for this position since birth, going through hoards of private tutors for subjects ranging from history and battle tactics to economics and trade relations to proper etiquette. He’s had to sit through boring meetings and charm young princes and princesses for diplomacy since he was a toddler. At the same time, there’s so much weight of responsibility—the kingdom of Seijoh is not a small one, and Tooru’s already beginning to plan how much extra studying he’ll have to do after hours on top of his classes at Seijoh University right now, when his mother interrupts.

“This doesn’t mean you _are_ king yet, young man,” his mother says. “Your father and I aren’t planning to retire any time soon.” She smiles and stabs another piece of her pancake with her fork. “But we will be giving you more responsibilities—some of our responsibilities, actually, and start to slowly pass things onto you until we do.” She reaches over to stroke through his hair, tucking a strand behind his ear. “Don’t worry, darling, we’ll take it one step at a time. You won’t be king until you’re ready.”

Tooru smiles, leaning into his mother’s touch, already feeling the stress ease back. He can do this. “Can I go tell Iwa-chan?” he asks, pushing back his chair.

“Hold on, son,” his father says. “That’s something else we need to discuss with you.”

“Is Iwa-chan going to be the next head general?” Tooru says. “My general?” Like Hajime’s father is the current general of the Seijoh army, he and Hajime have always dreamed of Hajime taking over his father’s position.

“Calm down, Tooru,” his mother says and puts down her utensils. She takes a deep breath. “As you know, I am a succubus,” she says. “And you’re half-succubus, which means you’ve lasted a little longer on just kisses, but as we get older—”

“ _Mom_ ,” Tooru whines. He can feel his face heating up with embarrassment.

“—we eventually need to find someone we can _fully_ charge on,” his mother says. “I was lucky that I met your father when I was a little younger than you now, and we fell in love so I’ve never needed anyone else,” she says. “But Hajime-kun has been with us since he was born,” she says. “We know you’re very fond of him as are we, and of course we would have no objections if he wants to marry you,” his mother says. “But we need to give him a choice.”

Tooru feels a little tendril of panic blossom inside him the way he felt when they were seven and Hajime’s family went to visit his grandmother in the countryside, so Tooru was forced to kiss other people for a week. Everyone he kissed tasted so bad he cried and begged and finally locked himself in a closet, refusing to come out until they stopped forcing him. In the end, his parents had despaired and let Tooru spent most of that week gorging himself on food to try and make up for the lack of vitality, which didn’t work—he felt lethargic and empty like someone had cut a hole inside him leaking out all his energy that could only be filled by Hajime. When Hajime came back, Tooru clung to him and refused to let go of his hand even when they had to eat until both sets of parents gave up and let Hajime promise he’d never go anywhere that long without Tooru ever again. “No,” he says.

“Tooru, you’re almost twenty now,” his father says. “You’re an adult, and you can’t force this on Hajime-kun if that’s not what he wants.”

“How do you know he doesn’t want this?” Tooru demands, even though he knows the answer. They’ve been together for nineteen years now, and things have never gone further than a kiss. If Hajime wanted it, surely, by now, they would have progressed.

“Talk to him,” his mother says. “Find out if Hajime really does intend to be with you for life. If not, you need to start considering other people, Tooru.” She sighs. “We’re telling you this now, because we’d like to announce your consort at the coronation so the people will know that they can count on their future rulers.” She puts down her napkin. “By the time it’s your coronation, we would like you to have a permanent charger—whether it’s Hajime-kun or not.”

 

* * *

 

Tooru is sulking in bed when Hajime comes back that night and barges through the door with Tooru’s untouched dinner tray in his hands.

“Why did they leave your dinner outside?” Hajime asks as soon as he comes in. “You didn’t eat?”

“And you never knock but I don’t say anything about that,” Tooru mumbles. He raises one arm toward the stars sparkling up in his canopy and lets it flop back down on the bed, out of energy.

“I’m not that late,” Hajime says with a snort. “Stop being a brat and get up.”

He comes over to the bed anyway, putting the tray carefully to the side before reaching for Tooru.

Tooru rolls over and turns away from Hajime, burying his face in a pillow.

He can almost hear Hajime rolling his eyes. “Come on, Oikawa,” he says.

Tooru curls up a little tighter. He feels Hajime shuck off his shoes and clamber into the giant bed, tugging Tooru by the arm until he’s manhandled into Hajime’s chest. Tooru refuses to look at him, but Hajime bypasses all of that by kissing him anyway, first short and sweet before the pecks turn into longer kisses, gentle in Hajime’s gruff way, and Tooru is turning into energetic putty in Hajime’s arms.

Kisses from Hajime feel good—Hajime kisses him exactly the way he likes to be kissed like he knows all the time how Tooru feels, which of course, he does after nineteen years of learning this. Tooru loves the way Hajime tastes like lazy breakfasts in the morning sun and laughter and grass stains on their knees and cloudy afternoons with warm green tea and fireflies hovering beneath the stars on summer nights. Hajime tastes like home.

Tooru buries his face in Hajime’s chest after and lets Hajime pet him, comforting, running his thick fingers through Tooru’s hair and tracing the line of his spine down his back.

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” Hajime asks after a long moment.

Tooru wriggles until he worms his arms around Hajime’s chest and clings a little tighter, tangling their legs together. Hajime actually smells a bit—evidence of his hard work during the day because he stinks of sweat and grass. “My parents said they’re going to crown me heir apparent on my birthday,” he says.

He clings tighter when Hajime tries to push him back.

“That’s great, Oikawa,” Hajime says, giving up on trying to see his face and hugging Tooru a little tighter in congratulations. “They’re going to start giving you more responsibility then, right? Your dad better watch out or you’ll take over before he’s ready to retire.” Hajime is so direct and honest and block-headed that when he says things like that, it makes Tooru believe it.

“So what’s the catch?” Hajime asks after he strokes down Tooru’s back two more times, a warm presence. “That kind of news would normally have you barging in on training to tell me,” he says when Tooru stiffens in his arms. “So what else did they tell you?”

Tooru exhales. “They said you might not always be with me,” he admits. He can’t hide things from Hajime—he’s never been able to. But at the same time, he can’t bring himself to say more in case Hajime isn’t in love with him. Hajime has always made Tooru brave, unless the risk is losing Hajime himself. If Hajime admits he’s not interested in Tooru, Tooru will have to let him go, and he doesn’t think that after nineteen years of loving him with all his heart, he can bear seeing Hajime kiss someone else and be happy with them. And then Tooru will never be king because he’d rather starve to death than be touched by anyone else.

“That’s stupid,” Hajime says immediately. “I might not be here all the time because of training, but that’s just so I’ll be ready when—I’ll be ready.”

Tooru sighs. “Kiss me again?” he requests.

He can hear Hajime’s amusement. “You still haven’t gotten enough?” he asks, but he tilts Tooru’s chin up and kisses him, their lips slotting together like they were made to be like this always.

Tooru never lets himself get too lost in kissing Hajime because it’s just charging, and when they really do kiss for real, he wants it to be real. He’s half-succubus, and while nowhere near as powerful as his mother, he has certain gifts he can utilize, and he never wants Hajime to kiss him because he’s being seduced by Tooru’s powers and not Tooru himself. But tonight, he’s sad so he lets himself indulge just a tiny bit, opening his mouth, letting go just a little so that Hajime’s kisses grow deeper and a little more desperate. He can hear Hajime’s breathing speed up, feel Hajime’s hand begin creeping under his shirt and touch his bare skin.

“Tooru,” he hears Hajime groan.

Tooru immediately withdraws every strain of seduction, his own chest heaving as he lets Hajime go. Hajime hovers above him, pupils blown wide, a high flush on his tan face, so handsome Tooru doesn’t know what to do.

Tooru’s heart is beating fast and his blood sings in his veins. “I—I need to go run,” he says, scrambling out from under Hajime.

“Run?” Hajime echoes.

“I—I—too much energy!” Tooru squeaks and hurries out of bed. He has his boots on in record time, already sprinting down the hallway before he can confess what he did to Hajime.

When he’s finally outside and the spring air cools the blood heating his veins, Tooru thinks about the way Hajime had looked, the way he’d reached for Tooru like he wants him—like he really wants him—and he knows that the countdown has begun. From now until July 20th, Tooru has a limited number of kisses he’ll receive from Hajime, and that was the first of the last.


	2. Chapter 2

When it comes to running a kingdom, things tend to move slowly—there are hoards of people who have to approve decisions, and even more people when it comes to executing those decisions. So things between Tooru and Hajime stay relatively normal for the next few weeks. It helps that Hajime is as dense as a brick, and as long as Tooru continues to deny that their time is limited, he can ignore the one thing he can do absolutely nothing to influence, and pretend like everything is going to be fine.

It also helps that they both get busier as Tooru has increased responsibilities, and Hajime starts training even more as the time to the knighting tournaments gets shorter. More than once, it’s Hajime practicing footwork or blocking techniques late into the night, and Tooru has to go find him both to receive his needed kiss, and make sure Hajime eats something and goes to bed. 

The third time in two weeks Tooru finds himself bringing a dinner tray to the training grounds, he finds Hajime practicing archery by the light of the moon. Although Hajime claims that Tooru is the one who is stubborn to a fault and never knows when to rest, Tooru would argue that Hajime is at least as bad. It’s okay because Tooru can take care of him the way Hajime always takes care of Tooru, and at least for the time being, this is still true.

Tooru makes himself as silent as possible when he approaches because Hajime has just drawn an arrow, his breathing even and arms bulging under the strain in an unfairly distracting way.

Hajime lets his breath out, and then the arrow, which flies straight and true, thudding into the target across the length of the field, just a little off center.

“Damnit,” Hajime curses, glaring at the target.

“Iwa-chan,” Tooru says, approaching the rest of the way and holding out his tray of dinner. “The moon is already out, you know.”

“As though you weren’t up late studying too,” Hajime says. He reaches for him when Tooru gets close, and Tooru can hear his heart pounding in his ears when Hajime touches his cheek with his hand, smoothing away something with his thumb. “You have ink there, stupid.” He smiles and Tooru is pretty sure he’s blushing straight down to the soles of his feet.

“Is it gone?” he asks, rubbing his face where Hajime’s finger had just been, trying to memorize the feel of his thumbprint. He’s tired too after being forced to spend all day going over huge scrolls and leather-bound books of kingdom policy.

“Vainkawa,” Hajime says. He brings his bow and arrows back to the bow rack, and Tooru picks a good spot to set down the tray.

The moon is so beautiful and bright out tonight that instead of making Hajime go inside for dinner like usual, Tooru walks a little distance into the practice field where the grass is even and soft.

Hajime turns and Tooru waves at him after setting down the tray.

“Really? A picnic?” he calls but walks out to him again.

Tooru smiles up at him. “It’s been a long time since we had a picnic,” he says. He’s relieved when Hajime sits down next to him, so close that Tooru can feel his knee press into Tooru’s thigh.

“Why are you practicing archery?” Tooru asks as he hands Hajime the bowl of stew first because it’s already getting cold in the night air and Hajime hates cold soup. Archery isn’t one of the tested skills during the knighting tournaments, and Hajime doesn’t even like archery that much compared to sword-fighting or martial arts, because he’s a barbarian.

Hajime starts inhaling the stew, hungrier than he originally let on. When he grunts, Tooru passes him the bowl of rice, which he dumps into the soup like he’s never learned etiquette—untrue because Hajime has been made to sit through almost all of Tooru’s etiquette lessons with him. “Did you forget Toshiya is next week?” Hajime asks between mouthfuls. “My dad was saying Karasuno wants to send a few delegates to compete so we better show them what Seijoh is capable of.”

Tooru has, in fact, completely forgotten about Toshiya, the annual archery contest in Seijoh. “Toshiya is next week!” he yelps and jumps to his feet. “I have to practice! I can’t believe I forgot! I haven’t done archery in the last—” Tooru counts back. “At least two weeks since I’ve been so busy with all the heir apparent stuff!”

Hajime laughs and snags him by the knee, forcing Tooru to stop in midstep or trip. “You’re the best archer in Seijoh. You’ll be fine as long as you’re calm.”

“Iwa-chan, it’s next week,” Tooru repeats. “I haven’t practiced in over two weeks.”

“One extra night of practice won’t make a difference by now then, and it’ll just make you tired and grouchy tomorrow. Sit,” Hajime orders. “I’m not kissing you until you sit.”

They both know that Tooru has no chance of lasting through a practice if Hajime doesn’t charge him, so he huffs but sits back down. Hajime starts eating again once Tooru hands nudges the side dishes of hamburger meat and vegetables at him. As he waits for Hajime to finish, Tooru helps himself to the bowl of strawberries he’s also filched from the kitchen that are supposed to be for the tartes the cooks are making tomorrow. 

Tooru waits, eyeing Hajime until he finishes, and then scoots until he’s right next to him. “Okay, you’re done, now kiss me and we can start practicing,” he says brightly.

“No,” Hajime says, finishing off the last strawberry. “I’ll kiss you and then we’re going inside to sleep.”

“Iwa-chan,” Tooru says. “You promised.”

“To kiss you,” Hajime answers. “Sleep,” he repeats.

Tooru debates how stubborn he wants to be about this, but as though Hajime can sense it, he adds, “Do I need to sleep with you tonight so you won’t sneak out and practice?”

If only he meant it the way Tooru wishes he meant it. “Iwa-chan, how am I supposed to crush everyone if I don’t practice?” he says instead.

“You have the worst personality in all of Seijoh,” Hajime says dryly and gets to his feet. He holds his hand out until Tooru takes it and lets Hajime pull him up. “You’ve won every year the last three years.”

“But what if someone is better?” Tooru demands. 

“Then they’re better,” Hajime says simply. “But you’re still one of the best.” He looks right at Tooru as he says it, and Tooru has to look away first. Hajime smiles and turns toward the castle. “Come on,” he says. “Race you inside.” He takes off with the tray, jogging for the castle.

“Not fair, you had a head start!” Tooru protests and runs after him.

 

* * *

 

Toshiya consists of four different archery challenges. The easiest is Hyaku-i, where every archer shoots 100 arrows, and whoever hits the target most wins—typically, only the youngest boys compete in this category, and Tooru mastered it within the first two years of competing. The second category, Sen-i, is significantly more difficult because it ups the challenge to 1,000 arrows. Last year, Tooru set a record of 989 arrows hitting the target, although he still hasn’t managed to hit it all 1,000 times. The third category, Hiyakazu, is for boys who haven’t yet turned 20, and a test of endurance. Competitors are given 12-hours to shoot as many arrows as possible during that time, and whoever shoots the most number of arrows wins. The last category, Oyakazu, is for men over the age of 20, and lasts for 24-hours. Hajime’s father had set the last record years ago when he’d shot 12,598 arrows. Tooru and Hajime have been looking forward to this category since they were kids, and Tooru has every intention of setting records next year when they can participate.

“I’m going to beat your record,” Tooru says as he and Hajime get ready with the other contestants for the Sen-i. They’ve already been out on the field all morning, watching the younger kids compete in the Hyaku-i challenge. Tooru made Hajime give him an extra long charge during lunchtime in preparation for Sen-i, because he doesn’t want to have to recharge in the middle of the contest, which both ruins his concentration and is highly embarrassing when they do it in public.

“When have you ever beaten me?” Hajime says, tightening the string on his bow. His forearms bulge with each adjustment, but Tooru reminds himself this is not the time to stare—this is the time to crush Hajime together with all the rest of his competition.

“My, don’t tell me you’re already losing your memory at such a young age, Iwa-chan,” Tooru says. “Don’t tell me you forgot who won Hiyakazu at last year’s Toshiya contest.”

“If I recall, that was me,” Hajime says with a grin as he straightens up again.

“Um, no, I was the one who hit the target 8,978 times compared to your 6,498 times,” Tooru says.

“Yeah, but Hiyakazu is about who shoots the most arrows, and I’m the one who shot 11,000 times whereas you got 10,000 arrows,” Hajime says, testing his bow string.

“10,898 arrows,” Tooru corrects him. “To your 11,567, which isn’t  _ that _ big a difference.”

“Big enough.” Hajime actually smirks at him.

Tooru sniffs. “Anyway, that won’t do you any good in the real world, Iwa-chan,” he says, selecting his first arrow.

“Let’s see who wins this time then,” Hajime answers.

“I’ll win,” Tooru says, and then shuts up when the trumpets sound to announce the first challenge.

From up in the stands, Tooru’s father gives a brief speech outlining the rules of Sen-i. Then Hajime’s father gives a significantly shorter speech that is really just telling all the contestants to get to their positions. 

Tooru takes a deep breath and focuses on the target. The thing he loves about archery is how much concentration it takes. He knows that all around them, what feels like the whole kingdom has turned up to watch. In previous years, Toshiya has always been fun and competitive, but this year, there’s the added pressure that this is Tooru’s last contest before he’s crowned heir apparent, and his people need to know that he’s a prince who can lead them, who is strong and dauntless. He knows that this is the last Toshiya where Hajime stands next to him as his best friend and exclusive battery who he can still love with all his heart until everything will have to change. Tooru hasn’t slept well since his parents made the announcement. But when it comes to shooting, the whole world narrows down to the rhythm of his breathing and the line of his target in sight, and in that moment, nothing matters except for that target.

Then the signal goes off and they start. Tooru immediately looses three arrows, one after another in rapid succession—each one hitting dead center in his target, and earning loud gasps and applause from the audience watching them.

He’s showing off a little, but the crown prince has to be the best when he competes.

At least he’s the best until he hears a rapid whish-whish-whish-whish-whish to his right, and watches in horror as five arrows hit a target, even faster than Tooru. He can’t see the archer from his position, but he can see those arrows, perfect in accuracy. All five of them have spliced the previous one right down the middle. Tooru’s three arrows have all hit the center of his target, but none of them have cleaved each other in half.

Tooru narrows his eyes and grabs his next arrow.

At the end of the contest, hours later, the obvious winner is the other archer. His arrows are absolutely perfect, cleaving each other in half nearly every single time so that the ground beneath his target is littered with arrow-halves. Even though 991 of Tooru’s arrows of hit his own target, breaking his record from last year, they’re clustered around the center of the target, thick but not the sort of perfected accuracy that other archer has.

Tooru doesn’t realize he’s biting his lip until Hajime’s hand comes down on his shoulder.

“That guy’s something, huh,” Hajime comments.

Tooru bristles.

Tooru’s father says something and the archer steps forward, which is when Tooru recognizes him—Karasuno colors.

“Our esteemed guest, Prince Kageyama Tobio of Karasuno is the winner of Sen-i this year,” Tooru’s father announces. “With a new record of 995 arrows out of 1,000. Congratulations.” 

Tooru doesn’t hear the rest of the congratulatory speech as he stares at the dark-haired young man. All he knows is that Tooru is supposed to be the heir apparent of Seijoh in two months, and an archer from another country, no less, has beaten his record.

“Tooru.” Tooru turns to see Hajime looking at him, eyes narrowed in concern. He looks tired, a streak of sweat drying on his brow. “You have to go up and congratulate him,” he says.

“Who?” Tooru says.

“The winner. Kageyama,” Hajime says and looks across the field where Tooru’s father and the Karasuno archer are staring over at them. Prince Kageyama had arrived late the night before and requested breakfast in his chambers so this is technically everyone’s first time meeting him. Tooru had been briefed on him, though—he’s the second-born prince of Karasuno, born as the second son of the royal family to the king’s second wife. The first prince is Sugawara Koushi who is also half-succubus like Tooru, and had met the love of his life, Sawamura Daichi, three months earlier and married him within the week. Tooru has never met him but hates him on principle for having immediately married the man he loves whereas Tooru has been with Hajime all his life and can’t progress past a kiss. Now, though, Tooru couldn’t care less about Sugawara—he might not be able to force Hajime to love him, but he should have been able to at least beat Kageyama in this contest. Archery is Tooru’s best sport, and even then, he couldn’t beat out a rival prince.

Tooru hands Hajime his bow and walks down the length of the field until he’s standing in front of his father and the boy who beat him.

“My son, Oikawa Tooru, was the winner of Sen-i last year,” Tooru’s father says with a smile and hands Tooru a gold medal. “It’s our Seijoh tradition that the last winner congratulates this year’s winner, so please accept these prizes,” he says.

Tooru stiffly loops the medal over the young man’s head where it hangs around his neck. Then he takes the small bag of gold, the prize for the winner, and hands that to him as well. “Congratulations,” he says.

“Th-Thank you,” Kageyama stutters.

Tooru wants to do nothing more than run into his room or maybe the forest and scream out his frustrations—this is the one time it matters most that he wins the contest, but he’s lost. Not only that, but he’s lost to an archer from another country. The salt in the wound is having to congratulate Kageyama on beating him in front of all his citizens, acknowledging that this Karasuno prince has won.

The rest of the night is a blur. There’s a small banquet for all the noble guests who have come for Toshiya. Kageyama and a young boy, winner of the Hyaku-i challenge, sit at the head table with Tooru’s parents and himself. But Tooru ignores all of Kageyama’s attempts to talk to him, biting out only the bare minimum of answers, and then excuses himself as early as he can with the excuse of needing to charge after a long day.

He finds Hajime at the table where he’s sitting with some of the other knights-in-training.

“Iwa-chan,” he says with a significant look when Hajime turns around.

“Whoo, get some!” Hanamaki, one of Hajime’s fellow knights-in-training, hollers.

On a usual day, Tooru would be significantly more pleased that some of Hajime’s friends think they’re a couple. Today, all he wants is to get the charging done and over with so he can practice. Tooru must look tired enough that Hajime doesn’t even bother denying it, and follows him out of the Great Hall.

Tooru finds the first empty side-corridor, and as soon as Hajime follows him in, Tooru kisses him. He presses their lips together with nothing in mind apart from getting as much energy as he can. But even though Tooru doesn’t want to enjoy it—wants it to be fully an energy transaction, kisses with Hajime are never just that. He can’t help relaxing just a tiny bit when Hajime’s hands slide around his waist, feeling some of the tension melt out of his shoulders. It’s a struggle to keep his anger and determination. 

“Hey, are you okay?” Hajime asks when the kiss ends.

Tooru takes a deep, shuddering breath the way he always does when they’ve finished. “Fine,” he says, averting his eyes. He should pull away now, he thinks, but he feels so safe from all his frustrations, all his failure even when he’s cocooned in Hajime like this.

He feels Hajime sigh, so close his breath brushes Tooru’s hair. “Oikawa…” he begins and stops again like he’s trying to figure out what to say.

“I’m fine, Iwa-chan,” Tooru says in as light  a tone of voice as he can manage. “Really.” He steps back and pastes a smile on his face. When he looks full at Hajime’s face, it hurts a little to see Hajime’s brows furrowed and mouth pressed into a line. “I’m tired so I’m going to bed early. I still want to win Hiyakazu, you know.” He flashes Hajime a peace sign. “Go back to the feast. But don’t be late tomorrow morning! I’ll need an extra long charge to last through 12 hours.”

He doesn’t wait for Hajime to respond, but hurries down the corridor in the direction of the royal bedchambers. Once he’s gone down a few hallways and Hajime hasn’t followed him, Tooru turns in the opposite direction and heads for the practice fields. 

He’s not lying. Tooru has every intention of winning the Hiyakazu tomorrow. He’s already been humiliated once, and he can’t be humiliated again. He cannot let even Hajime beat him, even though Hajime has won that particular category for the last few years. After today, failure is unacceptable.

With just about all the castle staff at the banquet, the practice field is empty so no one stops Tooru from dragging an old target out to the opposite side of the field to set up. He takes a bow and two quivers of arrows to begin with, setting them down beside him. The moon is bright out like it’s been all week, so it’s easy to see even without any torches or candles.

Tooru takes a deep breath and draws his first arrow. He looses one arrow after another, aiming for the target, but even though he manages enough accuracy to splice a few arrows down the center, it takes so much concentration that he can’t maintain speed. He’s not strong enough or fast enough or accurate enough.

He fires off round after round of arrows until he sees the first fingers of light indicating dawn. He has to win.

 

* * *

 

After a short nap in his bedroom, Tooru breaks into the knights’ barracks to find Hajime. He doesn’t want Hajime questioning him, and he knows from experience that the best way to do that is to catch him when he’s still groggy and half-asleep.

Tooru actually rarely visits the barracks because they’re spartan and hideous. Each barrack contains twelve beds crammed in so closely that it makes the room feel claustrophobic even when there aren’t twelve huge men in it. They also smell exactly the way you would expect a room full of young men who spend all day doing physical training would smell. Tooru privately thinks it’s a way of weeding out the weak from the Seijoh army.

Hajime has one of the two bunks closest to the door and fresh air—an earned position from being the best knight-in-training of his particular unit—and a good thing for Tooru on the rare occasion he has to come visit Hajime in his dorm.

Hajime groans when Tooru tries to shake him awake, flipping onto his stomach in bed and continuing to sleep.

“Iwa-chan, I need a charge,” Tooru whispers as loud as he can without waking the others.

Hajime mumbles something incoherent and doesn’t move.

Tooru gives up trying to reason with him, and shoves and pulls until he gets Hajime to flip over again. “This is your fault since you won’t charge me properly,” whispers and leans down to press their lips together.

Hajime has stale morning breath and lets out a snore mid-kiss. It’s a testament to how far gone Tooru is that he  _ still _ enjoys kissing him even then. When he pulls back, Tooru takes a moment to look down at Hajime’s stupid, snoring face. For a moment, he just kneels there, smoothing back Hajime’s stubborn hair and brushing his cheekbone, fond. Hajime wrinkles his nose in his sleep, and Tooru sighs, getting to his feet before he wakes.

 

* * *

 

Tooru can feel Hajime’s eyes on him all morning as they prepare for Hiyakazu, but since Tooru has to suffer through playing host to Kageyama, Hajime can’t say anything to him without making Kageyama an awkward third wheel. Tooru’s not even sure why Hajime is so suspicious—apart from charging when Hajime was still asleep, Tooru feels fine and energetic thanks to the kiss, so Hajime should have no idea that he’s stayed up all night to train.

Hajime doesn’t say anything until fifteen minutes before they’re to head out to the field, and then he comes up to where Tooru is sitting with a roll of bandages. “Your fingers,” he says, when Tooru gives him a questioning look.

Tooru looks down at his hands for the first time that morning and realizes they’re in worse shape than he thought. Although kissing Hajime recharges his energy, anything more would require more than just a kiss. So the strains of Tooru’s practice the night before are still evident in the damage on his hands. Now that it’s been pointed out to him, Tooru does remember his fingers beginning to ache a few hours into the night where the bowstring and wooden arrows have cut into them.

Tooru shakes his head and hands the bandages back. “They’ll throw off my aim,” he says.

“Oikawa,” Hajime says.

“Are you my mom?” Tooru says in his most obnoxious tone of voice. “I’ll put them on after tonight.”

Hajime frowns, but he doesn’t say anything else, letting Tooru head out to the field.

But one night of training isn’t enough to make a difference in the Hiyakazu results. Tooru does technically win to Kageyama this time, shooting 11,076 arrows to Kageyama’s 9,302 arrows, except that 9,289 of Kageyama’s arrows hit the target dead center, whereas a good third of Tooru’s arrows don’t even graze the target. Another Seijoh knight scores 11,102 arrows, and Hajime gets 11,711, winning Hiyakazu again. 

Tooru makes an appearance at the feast that night, but excuses himself early. This time, he doesn’t bother going to find Hajime even though he’s exhausted, and heads straight out to the field to practice.

He’s not sure how long he’s been out there when he hears a shout that startles his next arrow so that it flies off course and hits the grass a little distance off.

Tooru curses. “What the hell?” 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Hajime shouts as he comes storming up to Tooru. He looks mad, brows furrowed. He hasn’t changed out of his Seijoh uniform yet, so he must have come straight from the banquet. “I’ve been looking all over the castle for you.”

“Well you found me,” Tooru says. “Now leave me alone so I can practice.”

“Your hands are bleeding, you idiot,” Hajime snaps and grabs Tooru by the wrist. “Didn’t you promise to bandage them after Hiyakazu?”

Tooru had forgotten, but now he notices that his fingers sting and his bow is streaked with spots of red fingerprints. He feels guilty for breaking his promise, and even more mad that Hajime is making him feel guilty about it, when the most important thing is that he lost.

“How the fuck do you expect to do anything with your hands like this?” Hajime says.

“How am I supposed to do anything anyway?” Tooru snaps, tightening his grip on his bow, and holding it close to himself. “You saw how I did! Kageyama won yesterday! All except two of his arrows hit the target today. Did you see how many I missed? And he’s from Karasuno!” It all comes spilling out, and Tooru is even more annoyed to find himself blinking back frustrated tears at the end of it.

“He’s a genius, you idiot, of course he’s good,” Hajime says, reaching for the bow, but Tooru rips it away, holding it tighter. “He’s the best archer in Karasuno—that’s why they sent him to compete.”

“I’m the prince of Seijoh!” Tooru’s voice cracks but he continues shouting. “I can’t let him beat me! I have to be the best—how am I supposed to rule if I can’t even beat one archer from Karasuno?”

“You  _ are _ the best,” Hajime shouts so loud that it actually echoes and startles Tooru into silence. “You might not be a genius archer, but you are the best ruler this kingdom will ever have,” he says, eyes boring into Tooru’s. “The whole kingdom supports you. I support you. You’re not doing this alone—the contests, sure, they’re nice to win, but they’re not the most important thing.” His grip on Tooru’s wrist is so tight that his bones ache a little. “You’re the prince—no, the king I can boast of,” Hajime says. “That will always be true.”

His gaze is steady, unwavering.

Tooru feels something in his chest loosen under that gaze. Hajime seems to realize it because he reaches for the bow again, and this time, Tooru lets him take it. He feels the tension start to bleed out of him, but he doesn’t expect his legs to turn to jelly as soon as he no longer has the sheer willpower keeping himself upright. He stumbles, but Hajime catches him before he can collapse.

“You idiot,” Hajime says. “You haven’t even charged since this morning, and you still came out here to practice past midnight.”

“It’s past midnight?” Tooru asks. Even his voice sounds weak.

Hajime sighs and leans forward to kiss him. Tooru lets him, but instead of pulling away after the usual amount of time, Hajime nuzzles close, kissing him firm again and again—not just for energy, then, but to comfort him. They’re the same types of kisses as Hajime gave him that time when they were ten and snuck down to the catacombs to go exploring and got lost, and Tooru was so worried they’d never see sunlight again. That time, Tooru had stopped crying when he was kissed, and held tight to Hajime’s hand as they tried to retrace their steps until finally, the adults had found them. It’s been such a long time since Hajime kissed him this way.

Even though he should have enough energy to stand upright, Tooru still feels weak-kneed when Hajime finally pulls back.

“You’ll be the best king Seijoh has ever known,” Hajime says fiercely. “Don’t ever doubt it.” 

And when he puts it like that, Tooru has no choice but to believe it. “Iwa-chan,” he says, voice wobbly.

Hajime kisses him one last time and then starts leading them inside. He keeps a hand loose around Tooru’s waist as though afraid he’ll fall again. “Let’s go take care of your hands,” he says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Toshiya is based on a [real historical archery contest](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/T%C5%8Dshiya) in Kyoto.


End file.
